You Are
by Lowlands Girl
Summary: [Pre HBP] Songfic to Alanis' U R. After the war, Hermione contemplates the future.


**You Are**  
_by_ The Eighth Weasley

Lyrics belong to Alanis Morisette's song "U R."

_burn the books; they've got too many names and psychoses  
all this incriminating evidence would surely haunt me  
if someone broke into my house_

It was a little thing, and Hermione put it down to post-traumatic stress, but she no longer enjoyed the library. Its books seemed cold and dangerous. She just couldn't stay at Hogwarts, despite Dumbledore's offers of a teaching post in Defence.

_suits in the living room  
do you realize guys I was born in 1974  
we've got someone here to explain your publishing  
we know how much you love to be in front of audiences_

With the war over, Hermione wanted to explore other opportunities. 

The owls had choked the ceiling of the Great Hall two days after Voldemort's final defeat. Most had been for Harry, quite a lot for Draco, a fair handful for Ginny--many bordered with black in condolence--and a few dozen for Hermione, all clamouring loudly for her to open them first, all filled with enticing offers from top-ranking publishing companies and academic institutions. 

_hopeful you are  
schoolbound you are  
naive you are  
driven you are_

There was a completely new world open to her now, and she wanted Hogwarts to have nothing to do with it. She wanted to continue learning, but she just couldn't face its books anymore. The world wanted her, so she was going to give herself to it.

_take a trip to new york with your guardian  
and your fake identification  
when they said 'is there something anything  
you'd like to know young lady?'  
you said 'yes I'd like to know what kind of people  
i'll be dealing with'_

And she wanted to travel, see fascinating places: She'd dance the night away in a Paris club, goggle at the wonders of Barcelona's architecture, skate on the canals of Amsterdam, see the wildly acclaimed San Franciscan magical community, visit the ancient wizarding villages in the backcountry of Bulgaria, perhaps even have another fling with Viktor now that he'd been cleared by the war crimes tribunal.

Two weeks after the first onslaught of owls, the second one had come. Many of the organisations had sent follow-ups; to some of these Hermione had replied, asking about terms and pay and such. To the world, the brilliant Hermione Granger presented a confident front.

_precocious you are  
headstrong you are  
terrified you are  
ahead of your time you are_

'You decided yet?'

Ginny, eyes pink from what had probably been another night of crying, smiled slightly as Hermione sorted through the dozen letters that she'd received earlier that morning: the third cut.

The two of them sat opposite each other in chairs by one of the windows. Bright sunlight streamed in through the glass and warmed their faces.

'No, not yet.' Hermione picked a likely-looking offer out of the stack. 'I'm still thinking. There are just so many opportunities, and I really want to choose the best one. For example, if they don't say anything about finding me a flat, you know, it's just not going to be worth it.'

The words were the same ones she said to anyone else asking her what she was going to do for the future. They came easily, glibly.

Ginny nodded in understanding.

_don't mind our staring but  
we're surprised you're not in a far-gone asylum  
we're surprised you didn't crack up  
lord knows that we would've_

'I'm a little surprised you of all people haven't decided to take a few years for quiet,' Ginny said after a minute or two of peaceful silence.

'Why's that?'

Ginny met her eyes. 'Don't you get nightmares? Don't you keep reliving those last three days?' She breathed in noisily.

'Sometimes,' Hermione replied, looking at a freckle on Ginny's cheek. 'But I've got to move on, haven't I? At some point. Life moves on.'

Ginny moved her lips in a thoughtful, frowning pout. 'I know it does--eventually.' Her voice shook a little, and Hermione felt a pang of sorrow. She'd lost a friend; Ginny had lost a brother. 'But the things you must have seen in Malfoy's dungeon...'

She trailed off, and Hermione didn't respond.

_we would've liked to have been there  
but you keep pushing us away_

'If you ever want to talk about it, you know,' Ginny said earnestly, leaning forward to put a hand on one of Hermione's knees, 'I'm here. And you're always welcome to stay with us, you know, since...'

'Yes, thanks,' Hermione replied distractedly. She didn't want to think about her parents' deaths.

Ginny's hand moved back to her own lap; her gaze drifted back out to the sunny grounds.

_resilient you are  
big time you are  
ruthless you are  
precious you are_

'I think I'm going to go for a walk,' Ginny said eventually. 'Want to come along?'

'No, thanks,' said Hermione. 'I should make a decision.'

Harry came over; his scar-less forehead still took Hermione by surprise every time.

'Hi,' he said. 'I was going to head outside with Draco for a bit--want to come along?'

'I was just about to take a walk,' Ginny said, standing up from the chair. 'Sure you don't want to come with us, Hermione? A nice afternoon by the lake?'

'Yes, I'm sure. Thanks, though.'

With a last 'Cheers!' her two friends disappeared through the portrait hole. They'd be back in a little while.

_fin_


End file.
